After the Lashing
by Penwoman9
Summary: Takes place in the days after Gale's whipping. Katniss does her best to tend to him and give him some much needed comfort, but as always things get complicated. All of the characters belong to Suzanne Collins. I don't own or profit from anything!
1. Chapter 1

The following morning after telling Gale that I had no intention of leaving him, I woke up feeling strange and out of place.

For one, I woke up in my own bed, when I specifically remember falling asleep on the stool at the kitchen table near Gale's head after he had drifted back into a morphling induced sleep. My own head lay close enough to his, that I could feel his deep, steady breath on my damaged cheek. It lulled me into an awkward slumber. Peeta or Haymitch must have carried me upstairs to my room for a proper rest.

My entire body felt like a foot does when it falls asleep; numb with a dull ache and the inability to move. Finally gathering the wherewithal, I sat up and stretched groggily. Someone must have slipped me a dose of the morphling as well.

I finally pulled back my bed covers and trudged over to the bureau, pulling on a green wool tunic and some dark leggings. There, placed neatly in the corner of the room, by the door were my favorite leather shoes, which had been cleansed of Gale's blood and left to dry. I went over to them with every intention of putting them on, but a twinge of aversion rushed though me. They were damp and I could still smell the faint coppery tinge of blood...Gale's blood.

Normally the sight of blood was commonplace between all of the hunting I've done and of course, The Games. It was the brutal fact that it was Gale's that unnerved me. There was so much blood. My fingers went to the angry lash mark on my face and I felt a surge of pain as I heard the whip crash against Gale's limp, naked body again. I could hear his sharp intake of breath, punctuating the silence of all of those cowards in the square. They stood by and did nothing as one of their own, a boy they've all seen grow before them into a man, was being lashed within an inch of his life. The blood was draining out of him, his skin shown sheen and pale. Bloodied and covered in sweat. _Crack! Crack!_ Then nothing was perforating the silence. Something inside me broke as Thread raised his whip arm high above Gale for that last time. I knew that final blow would have taken my dearest friend's life.

"You shouldn't touch it, you know. It'll get infected," Peeta was in the bedroom doorway, eyes focused concernedly on the fingers pressed firmly against my cheek. It took me a moment to realize they were my own. I shot him a contemptuous look.

"Thank you, Mother," My voice sounded hollow and weak.

Peeta took a step into my room, his blue eyes still trained on me. "Well, I'm not your mother but I now seem to be the house baker and I've brought over everyone's breakfast." His eyes skimmed down to my midsection. "And you need to eat. I can practically see your ribs." His voice had a uncharacteristically sharp edge to it. Then I realized something.

"You didn't have to carry me upstairs. I was perfectly happy where I was." I tried to replicate the peevishness in Peeta's voice but couldn't quite make it work.

I was expecting a witty, yet derisive comment back but was met with unsettling silence. He was no longer looking at me, his eyes scouring a spot on the hardwood floor. "Fine, don't eat," he said just above a whisper as he retreated.

After running a brush through my hair and scrubbing yesterday's dirt and tears from my face, I headed downstairs to give into Peeta and my own stomach's grumblings. As I stepped on to the staircase landing, I was expecting to find a living room full of breakfast diners, since the kitchen table was being occupied by Gale. But instead, it was undisturbed. Making my way to the kitchen I could hear all sorts of activity and the scent of freshly baked citrus bread, mixed with medicinal herbs rushed through the doorway. My mother was rustling about the kitchen and had that look of medical determination she gets, as she was packing a tattered valise with tinctures, bottles and clean bandages.

Haymitch was staring off into the fire while Peeta was putting on his coat. Prim busied herself at the stove over some broth used from the last of the rabbit I had hunted a couple of days before. Gale lay just as I had left him the night before, only his eyes were half open and veiled in pain. A fresh layer of snow coat had been applied to his livid, torn back and I wondered why no one was keeping him company at the stool by his side.

I wasn't ready to address him... to take in his brokenness again. I made my way to the butcher block counter where the bread was steaming. I pulled off a chunk and popped it into my mouth as Haymitch and Peeta whispered conspiratorially in the corner by the fire. "What's everyone up to?" Suspicion rose into my chest.

"Mayor Undersee was injured by a mob of peacekeepers this morning. I must go over there straight away and tend to him." my mother said as she placed a vial of morphling in her satchel. "Is he alright?" I asked taken aback.

Was he being punished for not letting Gale's attempted murder reach its conclusion? Madge must be completely unraveling. My mother continued to rush around the kitchen as she spoke, tucking pots of plant pastes and fern clumps into her bag. "I don't know. Greasy Sae says it looks critical. He's was crushed under a mass of Peacekeepers and he may have some cracked ribs or a punctured lung."

I had a sick feeling in my stomach that wasn't lingering hunger. Madge had been so kind and courageous by braving the snow last night to bring Gale the much needed relief of the morphling, and now one of her own loved ones has been injured. I watched as Prim ladled the rabbit broth into a bowl, covered it with a cloth and set it on to the butcher block, next to my half picked at loaf of bread. She glanced over at Gale and then back to me.

"You'll want to see if he can take a bit of the broth first, and then, if his stomach stands it, you can dip some of the softer bits of bread into the broth and feed it to him." I began to panic.

Haymitch and Peeta were all bundled up and waiting at the kitchen door. "Where are you going in the middle of a blizzard? Are you crazy?" It came out as a kind of panicky chirp.

"We're not about to let Prim and your mother go out alone in all this snow and the streets teeming with blood thirsty Peacekeepers." Peeta said with that same edge in his voice from earlier.

My eyes darted to my mother who was still purposefully grabbing at things and stuffing them into her bag. "Prim? Why does Prim need to go? Is it really a good idea to drag her out into the snow?" I was starting to reel at the thought of being left alone with just Haymitch and Gale. Certainly Haymitch's bedside manner left something to be desired and there was the nonsense from Prim about feeding Gale. "I need Prim's assistance with Mayor Undersee of course," my mother bristled as if I was being foolish. I froze as I remembered that Haymitch was ready to go out into the white abyss as well. "I need to speak to Undersee about what happened and what the peackeepers are up to, if he's able," was Haymitch's answer to my silent question.

While all of this was going on, Gale lay silent and still, his eyes resting on me, the pain still residing in their silvery depths.

"You've all gone crazy!" I looked at Gale and back to my mother. "How many times do I have to tell you that I'm no good at this? I've had trouble keeping your herb plants alive!"

As if I hadn't said a word, my mother finally looked up at me from her spot with the others at the door. "He will need some clean bandages laid on his wounds once the snow coat has appeared to have set. Make sure to feed and bathe him, so he has a better chance at fighting infection. We will try to be back by nightfall. Otherwise, if we haven't made it by dark, we will stay at the Undersee's."

I swallowed hard, trying to comprehend their abandonment. "What about Hazelle?" I squeaked, knowing that there was no way she'd be able to tend to Gale. She had to be with her other children at home. Prim must have seen the panic in my eyes because she came over to me while pulling a poor excuse for a warm hat over her hair. She clasped my wrist with her tiny hand. "Just feed him very slowly, lay his bandages gently and watch for signs of infection. You do a fine job watching out for everyone." She smiled at Gale as she left with the others. Without another word, I was left with my shattered friend.


	2. Chapter 2

I stared at the kitchen door for a long while devising all of the satisfying ways I would seek retribution on my mother, Peeta and Haymitch for deserting me. Prim was absolved because, well, she's Prim.

Those eyes were still on me. I could feel them reaching out…searching. Gale always had this uncanny ability to see right into me and know exactly what I was thinking.

"It looks like you're stuck with me," he rasped with a hint of humor and knowing in his voice.

I could hear the effort it took for him to speak and it pierced my heart. Not knowing how to avoid it any further, I went to him.

Although I had seen him tied to that whipping post and seen him lying there on the table last night, the vision of him still threw me. I think it always will. I could feel my throat constricting as I focused on the the thirty-nine bloody, very angry looking lash marks on his back. They were not done by the skilled, steady hand of a Peacekeeper doling out normal punishment. No. These were brutal hate infused blows, intended to obliterate and destroy the person I loved-or cared about. The person I couldn't imagine life without. They were thirty-nine insidious reminders that President Snow could steal the ones I loved with a simple command. This was done to teach me a lesson and Gale was just a piece in Snow's game. How would I ever make this up to him? How could I ever repay such a debt?

I began to feel unsteady, queasy even and I looked for the pair of piercing eyes I've always counted on to ground me. I found that he'd never looked away. He was just watching me take it all in; all of his wounds and all of his hurt.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you it's not polite to stare?" he struggled again at levity.

He reached out and grasped two of my fingers as he did the night before. His hand was already showing signs of bruising and had nicks and gouges – signs that he gave Thread a fight. Of course he did. His wrists were ringed in a deep red from the rope abrasions from when he was tied to the post. He was unable to fight anymore; unable to defend himself.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that you should take your own advice?" I tried to pull off a playful smirk.

Any trace of humor had left his expression and was replaced with something heavy and stifling.

"I have an excuse" he said just above a whisper. His eyes were cast downward.

This strange feeling of drowning came over me as I saw he was trying to hide the tears just about to break free and shatter his hard earned image as the stone-cold iron rebel. He looked like he was trying to speak, but swallowed an invisible lump in his throat and continued to grasp my hand. My free hand found his chin and gently angled his his face toward me.

"Why should you get an excuse?" I looked into him like he always did for me.

"Truth is...I've never stopped staring," he whispered.

I was beginning to wonder if my mother had given him a dose of morphling before she'd left him to the wolves that morning. Incoherent blithering or not, I was riveted.

He focused on our joined hands as he continued. "All the time we spent together, growing up...in the woods, I was always stealing glances while you were busy taking down your next prey."

I stared at our hands – at his abrasions, as I answered breathlessly.

"That's kind of creepy." I expected his normal low-throated chuckle in response but was met with silence.

His face wet with tears, his silver eyes shut tight.

"I thought – " He tried with a shaky voice but was hard pressed to continue.

I'd never heard Gale's voice so weak and shallow. For all the time I'd known him, all the hours I'd listened to him talk about life in The Seam, snares, dreams and standing up against The Capital, I remembered the deep, rich voice that always calmed me and opened me up to him. This voice was sad and desperate. It killed me. I held his hand tight and willed him the strength to continue.

"I thought I'd die without seeing you again. That's all I could think about. Not about my family, not about what would happen to them, but you. Not seeing you again."

For the first time in my entire memory of being with Gale, I wanted to hold him. I wanted to hold him more than anything, but I knew it was impossible because there wasn't a square inch on him that wasn't damaged and screaming in agony.

Before I knew what was happening, I was kissing him. I kissed his damaged hands, the rope burns on his wrists and his palms which had clearly been caned before he was tied to the post. My vision was cloudy and it confused me until I realized, I was crying too. I looked up to find his eyes on me again – searching for meaning.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "If that damn fence wasn't live, I could have gotten to you sooner. I could have –"

"Thank you," he broke in.

Why was he thanking me? For shutting him down earlier that day, in the forest? Was he thanking me for watching him put himself out there countless times by telling me how he felt about me, only to get absolutely nothing in return?

"What could you possibly be thanking me for?"

Gale reached up and traced a line just under the lash mark on my cheek – the fortieth lash mark that was meant to kill him.

"For this. For saving my life."

"I came too late. I should've –" Then I heard the chuckle I missed so much. It certainly wasn't as lighthearted with tears streaming down those broad cheeks, but it was there.

"Catnip, the customary response when someone thanks you for saving his life, is you're welcome or even a, no problem," he winced a little from the jarring his laughter caused. "Leave it to you to throw yourself on the whipping post to save my life and then not accept my thank you."

I watched him as he made fun of my emotional inadequacies and saw a ghost of the normal glimmer in his eye. Even with all the bruises and marring, he was beautiful. How could I have never noticed it before? All of the girls at school always talked about him and I never could understand what the big deal was. How could I have been so blind? I opened my mouth to say you're welcome and ended up kissing him instead.

His lips were warm, as they were the night before but this time, they responded in kind. I felt his startled breath as I deepened the kiss and it made me giggle. That's right, I giggled. Me. With Gale still lying on his stomach, on the kitchen table and I, sitting off to the side, the kiss was at an awkward angle but it was perfect. It was interrupted by a loud grumbling and I found Gale had turned a bright shade of crimson. I giggled again.

"I guess it's time to eat." I whispered as I pulled away.

He immediately looked sad and I knew what he was thinking. I leaned in again, brushed my lips against his ear and whispered, "Don't worry. I'm not finished saying you're welcome."


	3. Chapter 3

I moved to get up and procure Prim's broth for Gale. The warmth of his lips, still lingered on my own, making them tingle.

"Wait," came a whispered plea.

He reached up a ran a hand through my hair as he pulled my face to his. It was then I realized I hadn't braided it down my back as usual. Gale seemed to like this and breathed in what I guessed was the sent of the woods. He touched his forehead to mine and looked at me again.

Those silver eyes reached right into me, searching for the answer he'd always been yearning for. It reminded me of when he eyed his prey, trying to anticipate their next move, just before they became ensnared in one of his masterpieces. Feeling too visible, I closed my eyes, heading for cover.

His defeated sigh grazed my cheek. Why was it so hard to just tell him how I felt about him? It's all he wanted. It's all he's ever wanted, and somehow, it was just something I couldn't give.

"It's time to fill that empty belly of yours," I murmured and pulled away from him.

Gale forced a weak smile but looked away.

I got up and grabbed the bowl of rabbit broth and a fresh loaf of Peeta's bread. It radiated warmth as I worked at the outer crust, revealing it's soft, aromatic center. As my fingers pulled the bread in to bite sized crumbles for Gale, my mind wandered back to the day of the reaping. Gale had just shown me his kill of the day – a loaf of bread with an arrow through it. Even with the ominous undertones of that day, everything seemed so much simpler. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since then.

I tested the rabbit broth's temperature with my index finger and the corner of my mouth curled a bit. I would have trouble forcing down tepid rabbit stew, but it was just the right warmth for Gale's hollow stomach. As I pulled a spoon from the silverware drawer and stirred the broth, Gale lay on the table with his eyes closed. The expression of peace and comfort he wore just a few moments ago, was replaced with a mask of pain and sorrow. That sickening feeling crept back into my own stomach. His raven eyebrows hung in a heavy grimace on his brow. I resumed my place on the stool at his side, the bowl of broth nestled between my hands.

I stared at him for awhile, trying to figure out the logistics required to feed him. A thin liquid didn't seem best served on one's stomach; neck craned at an odd angle, trying to slurp at it's contents. He didn't seem to take notice as I contemplated what to do with him. The more he lie there sinking deeper into sadness, pain, and probably starvation, the greater my hunger grew to take that pain away.

The bowl gave a soft clink as I set it on the table next to Gale's hip. My concentration, drew there, in that perfect hollow of flesh and bone. I could tell The Seam's coal dust-veiled sun rarely touched him there, but it was still a healthy olive tone; not unlike my own. The strange hunger grew inside of me as I imagined pressing my lips against the perfect, unmarred stretch of flesh that disappeared under the sheet covering his lower half.

I'd felt this strange hunger before, with Peeta. Sometimes when we kissed it was there. But having this sensation with Gale seemed new and exciting. What was wrong with me? I cleared my throat trying to dissipate the awkwardness hanging between us.

"Well, this isn't our normal spread, but it'll have to do," I digressed as I gently supported his chin with one hand and spooned a tiny bit of broth into his mouth with the other. He swallowed and a small smile curved his lips.

"I taste roast duck with a side of bread, slathered with soft cheese and a juicy bite of pear for the finish."

Before I had the chance to remind him that he was actually sipping on half turned rabbit juice, the broth had traveled to his barren stomach, with tumultuous result. He retched over the side of the table; the miniscule amount of sustenance he'd managed to take in, dripping from the corner of his mouth.

The first wretch had triggered a reflex and his body rocked in waves as he threw up nothing. The movement irritated his flesh wounds and he shuddered in pain. I stood helplessly as the thought of my mother's dying plants rushed through my head. I told them I was no good at this. His eyes caught mine, begging me to do something.

I finally snapped out of it and wet the cloth Prim had used to cover the broth. Scooting in as close to him as I could, I looked into his terrified eyes.

"Focus on me, Gale. Focus like you do in the woods. Center yourself and breathe," I demanded, with the calmest voice I could muster. "As you focus on your breathing, the vomiting will subside," I had once seen my mother help a pregnant patient through morning sickness this way. Although, I didn't know if it actually worked, because I was out the door before I could see the result. Sickness and weakness made me feel claustrophobic.

He did as instructed and took in small, shallow breaths at first, eyes still locked on mine. I mirrored his breaths, eventually deepening the inhalations and slowly drawing them out. After a few more breaths, Gale's convulsions had run their course. Relief washed over me and I realized I was clutching the damp rag with a death grip.

Gale looked embarrassed and all of the retching made his eyes water. I gently wiped his eyes and face with the wet rag.

"I could kill them! I told them that I am no good with this nurse made crap! Are they trying to get you killed?" The angry words spewed out of my mouth before my mind caught up.

"I'm sorry," sounded a strangled voice. "I guess the cheese was a bad idea." Even though, he was clearly in agony, he managed a smirk. I had an idea and smiled.

"I have something you'll like," I went to the coat wrack in the far corner of the kitchen and rummaged through my hunting sack until I found a small, leather drawstring pouch.

"Because our first adventure in eating was such a success," he trailed off sarcastically.

I reached into the pouch and plucked out a couple of mint leaves, and placed them in his mouth.

"Chew on these. They'll settle your stomach."

A genuine smile found his lips. He savored the familiar taste as he rolled the leaves around in his mouth and his stomach seemed to soothe.

I was grinning from ear to ear, like I had just cured some horrible disease. I grabbed a clean cloth from the linen drawer, drenched it under the faucet and pressed it to his lips.

"Take a small sips,"

Gale took a small swallow and seemed to realize how parched he was.

"Easy now. Easy," I murmured as I pulled the cloth away. "We'll see how you handle this first bit of water and then you can have some more."

He cast his eyes downward and he let out a dramatic sigh. "No chance, I'll get another kiss now, with rabbit mouth," I couldn't tell if he was attempting a joke or he was genuinely disappointed. It may have been a little bit of both. My face grew hot and had I looked in a mirror, I would probably have been lit up like Peeta's bakery oven. I chose to ignore Gale's comment.

I got up and pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it an inch high with water, careful not to make it too cold.

"Swish this around and spit it out. It'll wash the rabbit out." I said as I tilted the glass to Gales lips.

He did as instructed and closed his eyes. I noticed his hands were gripping the corners of the table, knuckles bloodless and white.

The pain reducing methods my mother had administered earlier the morning were wearing off and I didn't know what to do. Maybe it was time to reapply the snow coat.

I opened the kitchen door and a gush of frigid air, laced with snow powder gushed across my body and into the warmth of the house. There was no more visibility a foot past my face. I could guess that my mother, Peeta and Haymitch would have to stay with the Undersees for the night. I bent down, toes just inside the door, and scooped up a hand full of snow.

I turned to find Gale shivering. Of course, I let a draft in and it wouldn't be the best idea to put snow on a man who's teeth are now chattering mercilessly.

"Damn it," I cursed under my breath. I was just about to drop the snow into the kitchen sink.

"Don't throw it out," Gale warned from the table. "Pack it in a cloth and put it against your cheek." He must have been watching me again.

I did as I was told and I had to admit that the chill next to my very angry cheek provided relief.

"G-got to be c-camera ready in a few days," he spat through chattering teeth.

"Don't remind me. All that make-up, plucking and posturing is enough to send me over the edge," I took my seat at his head.

"You've never n-needed all that junk to be b-beautiful." he murmured.

I didn't know how to warm him up. Laying a blanket over him was out of the question. So, there I was with, simple instructions to feed, bandage and bathe Gale and so far all I'd succeeded in was making him retch and giving him the chills.

"What can I do?" I said under my breath. Not thinking he would hear me.

"J-just s-stay here with me." he answered. His hands were still grasped tightly on the table. I took his right hand in my own.

"I don't know how to administer morphling and I can't put the snow coat on, with your teeth chattering away. I really don't know what to do," I was hoping he didn't hear the helplessness in my voice.

"T-talk to me. D-distract me,"

When it neared winter in The Seam, it didn't seem to matter how many layers of clothing I went hunting in. There was this cunning chill that seemed to worm it's icy fingers through my coat and settle right in. When it was hopelessly cold, we'd stop at the cabin by my father's lake and Gale would build a fire. He once removed my gloves and rubbed his hands together over mine. I remember his large hands were rough from use, and the warmth seemed to emanate in mine and spread throughout the rest of my body. I was warm in no time.

I rubbed Gale's hand in mine and sat there without a word as I reached inside of myself to pull out the right words. I was never good with words. It was never necessary for my or for our survival. During the Games, I relied on Peeta to be the wordsmith. Then I remembered that this was Gale, and I should be able to talk to him about anything.

"I know what you mean; what you said earlier. I worried about never seeing you again when I was in the arena."

Gale listened intently, his shivering beginning to wain a bit. I continued to warm his hand as I forced myself to go on.

"I thought about my mother and Prim, of course. But in the night, all I could think of was how I would give absolutely anything to just spend one more day in the woods – with you," I took his other hand and continued.

"Although most of my day consisted of figuring out what I was going to next to not get myself killed, there wasn't a day that went by that I didn't wonder what you were doing – what you were thinking,"

I swallowed hard at the lump collecting in my throat. "I know that you think that what we have is one-sided – but when I saw you chained to that post –" All of the air rushed out of my lungs and my face was hot with tears. I couldn't continue. I tried to tell him, but failed, again. Gale squeezed my hand and I looked down to see he wasn't trembling anymore. His eyes seemed brighter and had that familiar kindness in them that I'd seen so many times before. A kindness reserved only for me.

I couldn't help but think of the fact that I'd soon be forced into an arranged marriage. Forced to shoulder another life choice that wasn't my own. But this time this Capitol demand, this marriage would destroy Gale. It would sacrifice the future that he'd dreamed up for us. Although I wasn't sure if I even wanted that future, it was devastating.

Before I knew it, I was sobbing; something I've seemed to be doing a lot in the last 24 hours. A thumb came up and wiped my tears, carefully avoiding the wound on my cheek. He cupped the back of my head, weaving his fingers through my hair at the base of my neck and drew me close to him. I found solace in the hollow of his neck as he traced light circles between my shoulder blades, trying to calm me.

"I want to hold you," he whispered, almost pleading. I looked up at him with the intention of reminding him that his back was torn to shreds, but I became distracted by his lips grazing the mark on my cheek. There was a slight twinge of pain, but a warmth flooded my entire body at the same time. The hunger was growing stronger.

It took some maneuvering, but I had managed to prop Gale on his side. I got up on the table with him. Facing him, I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck to stabilize him. His broad, strong chest was as comforting as when he held me to him on the Day of the Reaping, just before I was sent off. He held me close to him, pressed me into him as if he couldn't get close enough. I closed my eyes, feeling at peace; something I don't think I've ever felt before. After a little while, I started drifting off until I felt Gale's chest heaving against me. He was crying. I've seen Gale get teary and that was unbearable enough, but I'd never seen him cry.

"Gale," I whispered.

He struggled to take in a breath.

"I can't lose you," came a muffled plea. The hunger enveloped me like one of the game maker's avalanches. I couldn't tell him that I loved him, because I did. What type of love it was, didn't matter because I couldn't say it; couldn't form it into words. I couldn't give him what he wanted, by telling him, but I could show him.


	4. Chapter 4

My fingers found a life of their own, like they knew exactly what to do. Creeping up his neck and tangling in his rich, dark hair, they massaged his scalp in slow, methodical circles. "Shhh..." I heard myself whisper. "I'm not going anywhere, Gale. You'll never lose me."

Gale tried to stop crying. It was unbearable watching his expression change from anguish to humiliation as he realized how vulnerable he was in my arms. He opened his mouth to apologize, but I covered it with my own. I kissed him with my entire being, like I've never kissed anyone before. He tasted sweet with a hint mint.

I opened my eyes to see if he was watching me in typical Gale fashion, but found his eyes closed and he was completely enveloped in the kiss. It was working. I kissed him deeper, pulling him closer, drawing him in. The hunger spread through me like an indescribable warmth. I could feel every square inch of him through my clothes. .

With his hard, smooth chest pressed to my own I could feel his heart pounding. I broke the kiss to look at him. His sterling eyes still wet, were alive and full of awe. The words were on the tip of my tongue, ready to tumble out. If he stared hard enough, he could have guessed at them, but I just couldn't say those three simple words. Words that would just confuse my catastrophic life even more. But I've never wanted to say it to Gale, so much. My lips busied themselves by grazing each of his cheeks, just below his eyes. I could taste the salt of his tears, that were shed because of me. Because of my inability to give him what he'd been craving since that first day in the woods.

Although Gale's body was all but destroyed, it responded to my every touch. He quivered with each wisp of my breath as I laid feather-light kisses on his neck, nibbled his earlobes and found a home in each clavicle. As I found a blissfull spot behind his jaw, his hitched breath bathed my ear. It felt electric as I realized something terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. I was turning him on. Obviously I knew for quite some time that Gale wanted me and I always shied away from it – tried to stifle it. But in that moment, it was like an extremely addictive drug.

I pulled back a bit and looked at him again. He gazed back at me, questioning in his eyes. A smile spread across my face as I took him in.

"How could I have never seen it before?" I said, mostly to myself.

"What?" he whispered, bewildered, his arm draped just above my hip.

"You're gorgeous," I blurted out, immediately feeling stupid. I waited for that low-throated chuckle I lived for but found an appeased look in his eyes instead, like those simple words had healed him a little. Not the physical wounds he'd sustained at Thread's hand, but the emotional ones – the emotional wounds that I'd inflicted upon him through all of my previous rejections.

I kissed him again, stealing his breath. He closed his eyes again in anticipation of my next move. I pressed my forehead to his as I let my hands explore him. Again, his body responded to every caress of his skin. My fingers traced the carved squareness of his abdomen with one hand, while the other steadied him on that sturdy oak table. The muscles of his stomach tensed and Gale pulled a quick breath through his teeth, almost like a hiss, when my index finger brushed his hip bone. I startled and looked up at him.

"Am I hurting you?" I murmured naively. "I can stop."

Gale's eyes were closed and he responded with a faint smile.

"Just the opposite, Catnip," he whispered as he tried to steady his breath.

Seeing him like this was intoxicating. Instead of writhing in pain he was basking in pleasure, and I was his remedy. I felt capable for the first time since I'd been left to tend to Gale. I had to keep going, had to see the pleasure reach his eyes. In that moment, for the first time, I wanted Gale.

Before I knew what I was doing I reached beneath the sheet starting at the lower part of Gale's hip. He tensed a bit. Startled he opened his eyes and peered at me, almost frightened.

I looked right back at him and rested my forehead against his, not taking my eyes from his.

"Shh, it's okay." I murmured as I brushed the tip of my index finger over his hip, just below the sheet. He seemed to flinch at first, and then I realized the movement was from his hips titling ever so slightly to my touch.

For as long as I can remember, I've been labeled modest, shy or even prude when it came to nudity. Peeta was practically bleeding to death and I couldn't bare to bath him without a stitch of clothing, but something changed within me, there with Gale. It was like all the time we spent together, relying on each other, mirroring one another's movements in the forest, was leading up to this moment.

I gave Gale a reassuring smile as I lifted the sheet that was separating the rest of him from me and draped it over my own hips. Now there was no barrier between us. He didn't take his eyes from mine and fear became replaced with want. I kissed the tip of his nose as I let my hands take over. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek as I traced the line from his hip, down to his groin. I marveled at how soft and warm his skin was. Slowly, deliberately my fingers worked their way down. Gale's breath was like a gentle whisper in my ear. It reminded me the wind kissing my back on a spring day in the woods.

But this wasn't the woods. Here, on this table, that held many meager family meals, and supported the sick and dying, Gale and I were living a different existence together. We were taking a step toward something I never thought I wanted. As my hand was about to touch Gale in the most intimate, most telling way in our history together, I felt a gust of frosty air hit us. "Katniss" Gale started, terror in his voice.

I whipped my head around, to see if Thread's peacekeepers had come to claim Gale. I would never let them have him, never. The next thing I knew, all went black as I felt the back of my head collide with the stone floor.

I fought with consciousness, fought to regain the strength to fight, to defend Gale with my life, but my back was throbbing too damn much. I blinked several times and then they swam into view. I would kill them. I would skin them alive, just as soon as I could move.

I heard a gravely snicker as as my blood boiled.

"I guess we should have knocked."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Need a hand there, Sweetheart?" Haymitch asked more as a rhetorical question, as he pulled a dented, flask from his coat pocket instead of offering a hand up. "I have to say, I've seen you take more graceful tumbles."

My head was still swimming, as I made out the blurry outlines of Prim, my mother and Peeta, standing just inside the kitchen door. Back aching and head throbbing, I sat up to scrutinize the four intruders. Haymitch's smirk was still tugging the corners of his mouth as whatever alcoholic liquid slid down his throat. My mother took in the scene with a reproachful expression. Prim looked flush, despite having trudged a mile through the bitter cold and snow, eyes large and unblinking. My vision snapped back into perfect focus as I locked eyes on Peeta.

There was a thick silence in the room and everything seemed to be in suspended animation as I watched the murderous look on his face. Those clear blue eyes were rimmed with darkness as they glanced from the table where Gale lay, to me, looking disheveled on the floor.

Although Peeta and I have never been a couple, not really, in that moment it felt like I had been caught cheating. I saw abject betrayal cloud his features as he turned without a word and headed out the door. I scrambled to get to my feet, struggling against something tangling my arms and legs as I tried to get up and chase after him. I couldn't let him go, not like that. This was the boy with the bread who saved me, who gave me hope, the boy that I've bled with, cheated death with. I had no idea what I could possibly say or do that would dull the rough edges of my treachery, but I wasn't about to just let him leave.

The wind propelled snow bit at my face, and whistled past my ears as I squinted, trying to indentify Peeta among the whiteout. Visibility was still horrible and I blindly stumbled toward the direction of his place. I could normally hear his movement, since he didn't have the quiet gait of hunter, but more of a bull in a china shop. But the snowstorm was so fierce, that everything was lost into icy nothingness. Breaking into a run, I had no idea if I was going in the right direction. But then I saw him. I could barely make him out several yards ahead, but it was his limping silhouette that caught my eye. When Peeta was tired, he favored his natural leg, still trying to get used to the bionic one, provided by The Capitol.

I called out to him although the wind was carrying my voice in the opposite direction. After a few more tries, I knew he heard me, because he quickened his pace.

"Peeta! Wait!" I half demanded, half pleaded as I sprinted to him.

"Just leave it!" he shouted back as he attempted to run. Peeta was being stubborn as usual and it was making me angry as usual. The freezing ground gnawed at my stocking feet as I bested his speed and rounded him off to stop him. The sudden stop through him off balance and he toppled over in the snow, landing hard on his right side. Sorrow washed over me as I saw him floundering there in the snow. His pride had already taken a beating back at the house. I knelt down next to him and reached out to touch his shoulder.

"Are you alr-"

"Don't touch me!" he shouted as he shoved my arm away. He angrily shook the snow from his sleeves and dabbed at a smudge of blood that had collected over the arch of his right brow. I finched, not used to this side of Peeta.

"I'm sorry," I tried.

"Sorry for what, Katniss?" he snarled back. The tone in his voice was one I never heard from him. There was decisive harshness to it. "Are you sorry that we interrupted your love making session? Or sorry that you just tripped a cripple in the snow?"

"I'm sorry I –. I'm sorry I hurt you." The stammered apology sounded as pathetic as it felt.

"Oh, don't worry about me," he replied sharply. "Feel sorry for that poor wreck on your kitchen table. Now he honestly thinks that you have the capability of loving someone other then yourself and Prim."

He let out a bitter laugh as he rose awkwardly to his feet. "I wonder how he's going to take it when he eventually finds out that you're incapable of love outside of yourself and your sister. That it's all just an act to cover up the fact that you're broken inside – that all you care about is who can help you survive." I just stared at him, my throat tightening. Although I probably deserved it, I'd never known Peeta to be so cruel. I wasn't sure what was more unsettling, the words he was spewing or whether they were true. His eyes bore into mine and as I stared back at him, I could see the pain behind his rage.

"I believed it too for awhile," he went on, his voice softening. "When we were together, in the cave." He had a far away look in those cerulean eyes, like he was back with me in that place. I wanted to reach out to him again, but I knew that anything I said or did at that moment wouldn't be right. There was nothing I could say. I just had to give him time. He shook his head, like he was shaking away the memory and suddenly he looked like the Peeta I knew again. "Look, I don't want you to follow me. I just want my space."

I nodded dumbly.

"I'll bring by some bread in the morning," he said over this shoulder as he walked away.

I arrived back to my own victor's manor and the air was still heavy with silence. Haymitch must have gone home, as he wasn't at his usual place in the kitchen. My mother was applying snow coat to Gale's wounds. He had his head turned away from me and he was undoubtedly pretending to be asleep. Prim was standing over the stove as she did that morning, only she wore a more solemn expression. Neither of them looked up at me and I new there was trouble coming.

My embarrassed ire toward their intrusion had simmered since my conversation with Peeta.

"You came back earlier than I thought you would have," I started, in effort to cut through the silence.

"That's quite apparent," my mother said tersely as she applied a cotton strip to Gales back with the delicacy of a butterfly kiss.

"Is Mayor Undersee doing alright then?" I prodded, trying to quickly re-direct the conversation.  
>"He passed this morning, before we got there. The internal bleeding was too extensive. He didn't have a chance. We spent our time tending to Madam Undersee and Madge." She laid her last strip and wiped the snow coat from her fingertips on her apron. I just stood in stunned silence. Madge and I now shared a common bond that the classes could never separate.<p>

My mother never looked up at me.

"Prim dear, prepare some sleep syrup and see that Gale is tended to. I'm heading up to bed. It's been a very long day." Without acknowledging me further, she left the kitchen and climbed the stairs to her room. Either my mother was upset by Mayor Undersee's passing or she was disappointed in me. I had a strong feeling about which of the two was correct.

There was no sound in the room save the faint clinking of Prim's spoon against the pot she was stirring over the stove. She was also was uncomfortably quiet. I stood by her, watching her concentrate on the gold hued liquid she was preparing.

"What are you making?" I asked, trying to draw a response out of her.

She didn't look up and her normally bright face was practically motionless as she continued to stir.

"Well, I saw that the rabbit broth was untouched and since it sat out all day and we can no longer use it, I'm making Gale some tea from the herbs we have left." She glanced over at Gale and back to the stove.

"He needs nourishment, Katniss. Why didn't you feed him like I instructed?"

'Like I instructed?' Prim was sounding older. She was sounding like my mother and it made me reflexively defensive.

"I tried to give it to him and he immediately puked it up. What would you have me do, force feed him?" I didn't mention that he took mint leaf because it reminded me of the taste of his kiss. My cheeks felt hot and I stepped away from the stove. Prim didn't answer, her lips forming a thin tight line.

Who was this person standing in the place of my little sister? She wasn't the duckling with her shirt tales hanging out anymore. While I was fighting for my life in The Games, she was watching. She was helping my mother tend to the sick and injured of The Seam. I never considered how much it must have aged her. Right now, I felt like the little sister preparing to be scolded.

Prim poured the steaming liquid into a mug waiting on the counter and looked up at me. Her features were still as small and fine as I remembered them. Here eyebrows knit into a small line as if she was trying to work something out in her mind. "What are you doing, Katniss?" she asked plainly.

I swallowed down the pithy responses springing to mind, knowing exactly what she was asking. I didn't know what to say to my little sister about my romantic feelings. So, I stuck to what I was used to - my defenses. "I don't know Primrose. I was doing the best I could since my mother and sister, the two people in the family with any medical knowledge left me alone to tend to my best friend who had been nearly whipped to death."

"Mayor Undersee needed us."

"Gale needed you!" I shot back at her. I had never spoken to Prim like this before, like a peer.

"I can't believe you're yelling at me about how I treated your best friend, when you just left him, exposed on the table, for all of us to see, so you could run after Peeta. How do you think that made him feel, Katniss? Not to mention, that he's in no shape to..." she trailed off her face reddening.

Exposed? What did she mean, exposed? There was a weight in my chest. That's why I had a hard time getting to my feet after I fell off the table. The sheet covering Gale must have went with me when I hit the ground. The whole situation would have been hilarious if it didn't cost Gale the pride he had left.

"Damn." I cursed myself. "I wasn't thinking."

That's right, I wasn't thinking. I was acting purely on impulse and emotion when I kissed Gale, when I held him and touched him. Every time I give into my feelings, someone gets hurt. And now my mother, Prim, Gale and Peeta were all upset. I'm sure Haymitch would have to put in his two-sense about it sooner or later as well. Being romantic with Gale was not all in the Capitol's plans for me. In less than I week I would be trying on wedding dresses.

The weight in my chest had multiplied and I suddenly felt my exhaustion. I glanced over at Gale, Prim's eyes on me. Her face softened and she brushed my forearm. "I'll take care of him. Go up to bed. You need more rest." I looked down at my little sister, still in awe at the wisdom she had for being so young. I kissed her forehead and made my way to my room.

Peeling off my sodden clothes, I dressed in a nothing but a night shirt and a dry pair of underwear. I pulled up the covers, and couldn't help lamenting over the fact that Peeta wasn't close by if I had one of my nightmares. I wondered if he was still asleep, alone in that house, battling his own night terrors.


	6. Chapter 6

My eyes bolted open for the twelfth time since I went to bed. Yes, I was counting. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Gale. The first few times he had tears in his eyes, which unraveled me. Gale was not a crier. For all the time I've known him, he was tough and stable and there weren't many things in his world that made him emotional; just the Capitol and me. Burning hate because of the Capitol and pain because of me – pain and sadness. I squeezed my eyes so tightly, little bursts of light flashed like sparklers behind my eyelids. I couldn't sleep.

My mind drifted back to earlier in the day, when it was just the two of us on that table. The world had dissolved around us and I watched as Gale's pain was fading away before my eyes. I could feel his warmth again, radiating through me as he held me so close to him. Wrapped in his cocoon, I could have stayed there forever, listening to him give into to pleasure – the pleasure only I could give him. I could feel his breath against my cheek, his heartbeat fast and steady. Just as my hand had made it's voyage down the indent of Gale's hip and his dark eyelashes fluttered in approval, the door crashed open again. Only this time it was Thread and he brought company.

I whipped around, lost my center of gravity and crashed to the floor again. It hurt just as bad, even though I knew it was coming. The sheet came with me again, covering my face this time. I struggled with it, trying to free myself. I could hear Gale screaming. The more I tore at the sheet, trying to free myself the tighter it wrapped around me and I could feel the panic rising like bile in my throat. I finally freed myself and sprung to my feet in time to see Gale being held by his arms and legs, face down on the table by two peacekeepers I'd never seen before.

I started to move, to lunge for them and stopped, my legs almost buckling under me when I saw Thread step into view and press a gun to the back of Gale's head.

"Move another hair toward this table and I will shoot him and nail him to the whipping post, just like his poached turkey," Thread said. I didn't move forward, but shook where I stood as Thread gave a grin that showed most of his yellowed teeth. He pulled a whip from his belt loop and held it out to someone. Snow stepped in to the kitchen, approaching the table, hand outstretched. His cold snake eyes pinned to me.

The long whip, still stained with Gales blood uncoiled in Snow's liver spotted hand and made a sickening crack as it's tip hit the floor. A terrified moan ripped from Gale's mouth, behind the old man. Snow didn't react. He smiled his cold, sociopath smile and addressed me.

"Ms. Everdeen, you seem to be under the impression that you can change the tide." He held the whip out to me. I could feel my eyes widen in their sockets as my heartbeat hummed an alarm in my ear.

"The Capitol has gone to great lengths to remind all of the districts that our society will simply not work if they do not abide by our laws, by our ideals. By stepping in front of Peacekeeper Thread today, while he was carrying out a punishment for a serious crime, you thumbed your nose at the Capitol – at me." The terror was rising in me. I knew there would be consequences for helping Gale, for interrupting the lesson meant for me. My normal composure under duress was crumbling fast.

Snow continued.

"It is my duty, Ms. Everdeen to ensure that the law of the Capitol be carried out whether you agree with it or not," he still held the whip at arms length, silently taunting me.

"Now, after that stunt you pulled in the arena, you've become a bit of a rebel celebrity. The masses are looking to you for direction," I was bewildered when Thread stepped away from Gale, gun pointed to the ceiling.

"I am giving you this opportunity to show me, Miss Everdeen, that you will provide the proper guidance to our people. You will uphold the law, as a Hunger Games victor."

A sick brightness flickered in Snow's eyes as he nodded a silent order to Thread who circled behind me and pressed the barrel of the gun between my shoulder blades, in the place where Gale had rested his hand just moments before. The pressure of the steel pushed me toward Snow who placed the whip in my hand and coiled my fingers around it.

"Now you are going to finish out the punishment and you will not relent until I give you the word." Snow advised as a smile curved his wicked lips.

"You're a lunatic," I choked, my voice cracked and broken. "I would never -"

"Careful now, Ms. Everdeen. You can rebel, yet again, but it'll come at a much steeper price this time." He absentmindedly toyed with a neon pink rose that was tucked in the lapel of his pinstriped blazer. I could smell it's sweet, overpowering stench from where I stood. If fear had an actual smell, that would be it.

"If you don't finish out the punishment due to Mr. Hawthorne, I will have to make a more vivid example out of you...by executing your family. Intelligence tells me that your entire family, including your fiance are at the Undersees as we speak."

Adrenaline coursed through my body. It was my job to protect my family. My knuckles around the whip were white and my palm throbbed against it's handle. A switch was flipped inside of me as I approached the table. I focused on the terror in Gale's eyes and froze for a moment, my hands shaking. They would kill Prim, Peeta, my mother. My whole relationship with Gale surrounded protecting our families. This was inevitable. Looking away from Gale I raised the whip above my head. The first lash came down and the tip of the whip, rebounded letting off blood spray, splattering my face. Gale's scream didn't sound human. Guteral and grating, it continued until I realized it was it wasn't coming from him. It was coming from me.

As my eyes snapped open, I was still screaming. I rolled to one side of the bed to vomit. When the heaving stopped, my body was wracked in sobs. How could I have done something like that? It felt so real. I could almost feel Gale's blood on my face. Firm, but gentle hands rubbed my back, which was bruising from the fall off the table. My mother gathered me up in her arms. I couldn't remember the last time she had held me. I couldn't have been more than eight.

"Shh... Katniss it was just a dream." She smoothed my hair as she rocked me back and forth. I was still hysterical. "Gale!" I was staring at my hands, my eyes wide, tears streaming down my face. "I-I whipped him! I hurt him and he's bleeding!" My hands trembled as my mother pressed them in her own and looked me in the eye.

"It was a dream, honey," she insisted in a soothing but direct tone. "Prim just came upstairs from tending to him."

It was just a dream I told myself, still feeling manic. Prim emerged from the doorway and sat on my bed next to my mother. "He's just fine. I gave him the tea and he held it down nicely. The snow coat is working on the pain and I didn't even have to give him the sleep syrup." she tried to reassure me. I knew the fact that Gale could hold down weak tea, was supposed to make me feel better, but it fell monumentally short.

"I'm a monster," I said to myself. "This is all my fault." My mother grabbed my shoulders shaking me out of my daze. "Look at me," she demanded in a low whisper normally reserved for severe scoldings. I obeyed and stared at her, my eyes burning. "You have been fighting – fighting for survival since you were a little girl." Her eyes softened, moisture collecting in the corners. "You have ensured the survival of your family the only way you knew how. When we are forced into horrible situations, we can only hope that we did the best with what we had." She squeezed my hands. "And you, my brave girl, have done your very best and I am so proud of you." She held me close to her again. Prim studied me as our mother did her best to sooth a daughter who hadn't gone to her for anything in years. She smiled at me, with that Prim smile that always melted my heart.

"Would it help you if see for yourself that he's alright?" She spoke to me like she would to a little girl who complained of monsters in the closet. This was her way of shining a flashlight to show me they didn't exist. We both knew that monsters did exist. I nodded my head, just like a little girl would. Prim took my hand from my mother and led me to the stairs.

"Prim," my mother called after her from my bedroom. Prim turned toward her. "Let her go to him alone. They could use some privacy." she said tenderly. Prim squeezed my hand and whispered in my ear. "He'll be alright. You know how strong he is."

Prim and my mother had helped me through my worst night terror as best they could, but I still had an unsettled feeling. A feeling I knew wouldn't go away until I saw him. I crept as quietly as I would when stalking a deer in the woods as I made my way to the kitchen. I should have know that he still would have heard me. He was on his stomach again, head inclined to the kitchen door, so as soon as I approached the doorway, our eyes met. This time he looked away.

"You're awake," I croaked.

"I heard screaming," he replied eyes searching the floor.

"Nightmare." My voice was ragged from said screaming. Silence.

The fresh white cotton bandages crisscrossed his back, providing a stark contrast to his olive skin. I concentrated there for a moment. No blood. I felt a slight tug at the hem of my nightshirt. Gale held on, hand now bandaged, eyes still on the floor. He wasn't his normal bold, self but he couldn't resist reaching for me and I couldn't resist reaching back. Not when I knew he was hurting.

I took his hand, lacing my fingers through his as I sat my usual place on the stool by his head.

"Sounds like it was a bad one," he said. I knew he was referring to the nightmare.

"The worst one yet." My voice quivered and I swallowed several times before I could continue.

"Gale, we need to talk about what happened -"

"I really rather not, Katniss." He interrupted. His eyes now closed, as if he were trying to push back a painful memory.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry for leaving you – like I did." There, I said it. His hand went limp in mine. Well, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. I tried again.

"I didn't realize that the cover...went with me." I cleared my throat as I saw Gale's entire body visibly tense, his back rigid.

"That must have been..."

"Humiliating." His eyes flashed up to mine, the anger and hurt brewing in them as he said it. Then he looked back down at the floor.

"It was bad enough being displayed half naked in front of our entire district, strung up like a trussed animal -" I watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he struggled to continue.

My mother and sister wouldn't have thought twice about Gale's nudity, since he was technically their patient, but I knew this was different. It wasn't just them who saw him and it wasn't for medicinal purposes. He let himself be vulnerable for once, I let him down. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Gale was never much of a nudist either. He never took his shirt off when we sat in the sun by the lake, never even stripped down to swim. We were more alike then I ever could have imagined.

"But to just leave me there like that after we were just... all to chase after _him. _I never knew true humiliation until then."

"I'm so sorry." I whispered. I don't remember another day in my life that consisted of so many apologies.

"Hey, you know what they say. You hurt the ones you love, right?" He said in the hateful tone he usually used when talking about the Capitol. "Oh wait..." he said mockingly.

Normally, this type of response would bait me into a fight, but I couldn't even muster the strength to be defensive. I had no defense. "Gale," I pleaded. "Please, forgive me. I can't – I couldn't handle it if you don't forgive me." My voice was breaking and the all too familiar throat tightening that happened just before the tears usually came, started to strangle me.

"I would never have done something like that to you." He whispered shakily.

"I know." I whispered back to him as I climbed on the table, draping his arm over me. Thankfully, he didn't push me away like Peeta had.

I pressed my forehead to his as I had done earlier that day, before it all went catastrophically wrong. Lacing one arm under us to cradle our heads, he cupped the back of my head with the other and I winced. His chuckle was like sweet music to my soul.

His lips curved into a smile against me cheek, which had healed considerably.

"That's right. Mind the battle scar." he said, referring to the bruise on the back of my head from my graceful descent to the floor.

"It hurt like hell if it makes you feel any better." I whispered, returning the smile.

"A little bit, yeah." He murmured.


	7. Chapter 7

"Well, if it isn't the kissing cousins. How touching."

I immediately pressed a finger to my lips, staring daggers at Haymitch as he towered over us. Gale, who was sound asleep gave a faint sigh as he settled deeper into the crook of his arm, and stilled again.

Haymitch's stale breath curled in my nose as he whispered.

"Do you two have some sort of food fetish? Can't you find the poor man more comfortable lodging than this splintered old kitchen table?"

The very early morning light cast a harsh glare on the lines of Haymitch's face; the crags around his mouth more evident as he bent down to taunt me.

"I would think you of all people wouldn't be prejudice towards things that are old and splintered." I shot back.

"Careful Sweetheart, you might hurt my feelings."

His mouth stretched into it's characteristic smirk, but didn't quite reach his weary, gray eyes. He hesitated a moment, pulled a chair up next to me and slumped down on to it, letting out a long breath. Dragging a hand over his face, he looked more haggard than usual.

"You know you're playing with fire here, don't you?" he nodded at Gale who was spooned behind me; his other arm draped over the curve of my hip. Something tightened in my chest making it hard to breathe.

"Is this what you came here so early in the morning for, Haymitch? To dole out relationship advice?"

"If it's that what you need to get your head out of your ass," he said.

"That's interesting coming from a man who spends his nights in the bottom of a bottle, passed out cold at his own kitchen table, without a soul around." I could feel the anger welling up. Blood buzzing in my ears.

He leaned forward in the chair, his face was so close to mine, I could smell the alcohol permeating from his pores.

"What is it going to take to wake you up?" he snapped in a harsh whisper. "Take a look at your boyfriend there." Haymitch jerked his head again toward Gale, eyes etched into mine.

"Do you think they won't come after him again when they see you two playing house?" He scrutinized me for a response and I refused to give one. Whether it be from stubbornness or fear, it didn't matter. My defiance was enough to set Haymitch off.

"Did you already forget? Did you already forget lover boy there, hanging on a spike? Whipped within in inch of his life, unconscious from the incomprehensible pain? By the time we got there, he was bleeding to death. Has that already escaped your attention?"

His words sliced through me as keenly as he'd intended. I glanced at Gale, eyes catching a scant inch of bandage jutting over his shoulder from where the whip had wrapped around from the momentum of Thread's stroke.

"Of course it hasn't escaped my attention," I said in a cold, still voice. My face turning to Haymitch as I bit my lower lip to keep it from wobbling.

"The Capitol won't hesitate to come after him and finish the job if they get the slightest inclination that you don't intend to carry out your marriage to Peeta." he said. "You are spoken for in the eyes of the Capitol."

My stomach lurched at the thought. It wasn't the idea of being with Peeta that made me feel sick. It was the fact that the choice was being forced upon me. My life had been determined by the Capitol before I was even old enough to realize it. I was awake. I was aware – and I hated it. I hated Haymitch for rubbing my face in it.

"What the hell do you care?" I finally spat back at him. "In case it has escaped your attention, I survived the arena. Your job here is done. The Hunger Games are over."

Haymitch let out a bitter ghost of a laugh.  
>"That's where you're wrong, little girl. They are never over.<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

Every morning, for the next couple of weeks, without fail, there was bread.

Gale was helped up to Prim's bed as soon as his wounds were stable enough to be moved. I spent a lot of time in my own bed. Deposited deep under the covers, their cozy confines became like my cave – a place to recover from my own wounds. I stopped counting the hours of immobility, of just existing, of breathing in and out and hoping when I finally had the resolve to move, my world had changed for the better.

"Rise and shine. Well, rise anyway."

Prim did her best to plop down on my bed; her slight frame making but a small ripple in my sea of blankets. She slept in my bed during the remainder of Gale's stay, partially because her own bed was occupied, but mostly to manage my nightmares.

Sometimes I was back in the arena. Other times, I was mercilessly tearing open Gale's back. There were also times I was standing at an altar with a boy that looked like Peeta. He had the same wavy blonde hair that refused to smooth in some places. The same square jaw that jutted out from the collar of his tailored suit. But when he turned to me, he had no face. It wasn't then that I start shrieking. After seeing mutts and muddled, bloated faces stung by tracker jackers, a faceless boy was not what unraveled me.

I would look down to find my white wedding dress soaked in blood. All around me in the aisles were corpses of people I knew. Piled high, like pelts for sale in the hob were the people I grew up with. Greasy Sae, Darius, Madge and Mayor Undersee were a just few bloodless faces in the heap. I could never find Gale. That's when the shrieking would start, and nightmares would end.

Prim had the whole affair down to a science, like a commonly administered medical procedure. I was instructed to breathe deeply from my belly and to find my sense of being, in the present. There was herbal tea and sleep syrup, and then nothing. Some nights I was grateful to my little sister for her help. Most nights, I just wanted to feel the warmth of Peeta's arms wrapped around me. My sense of being laid with him in the midst of those terrible times.

"Here. It's sweet today."

Prim deposited a small loaf of bread though a tunnel in the blankets. Without emerging, I tore off a small piece and let it dissolve on my tongue; cinnamon, cardamon and clove today.

"Go ahead and ask me."

I clamped my eyes shut, although Prim couldn't see me, as if bracing for the answer I didn't want to come.

The blankets muffled my mouth.

"Did Haymitch bring it over?"

"Yes. I haven't heard from Peeta."


	9. Chapter 9

After two long weeks of bitter blizzards, The Seam began to thaw and I came out of hibernation. My body couldn't handle being idle and useless any longer and I was itching to hunt. Although the weather was milder, the Peacekeeper lockdown was still in full force. Being trapped like a wild animal in my own home didn't help my melancholy and Gale's disposition didn't seem any sunnier.

Sitting shoulder to shoulder at the kitchen table, we had undisturbed bowls of tesserea in front of us; eyes trained on the gray gelatinous goop. We were both on bread strike. Gale refused the daily delivery on principle and I just came to resent the fact that Peeta refused to deliver it himself. Hours seemed to pass between us in silence.

Gale shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but remained silent.

"Do you think I could rustle up a couple of squirrels in the yard?" I said.

My mouth watered at the prospect of fresh game after weeks of bread, herbs and grain, even if it turned out to be a few meager rodents.

He gave no response.

"I could hide behind the hedge and wait them out."

Silence.

"Should I use my bow or your sling shot?"

His fists slammed against the table and I remained still as I felt his steely gaze on me.

"This is what we're talking about? After a week of you avoiding me? After a week of silence, you're asking me about squirrels?"

I didn't look up at him when I replied.

"It's all I can stand to talk about right now."

After Haymitch left on the day of our heart-to -heart regarding my immanent arranged marriage, I resumed my status quo of keeping Gale at arm's length. He was visibly confused at first, but as the days passed and his wounds started to heal, he began to steal himself away in his room and didn't ask for me.

"Maybe it's time. I went home, now that I'm on the mend and can move around more,"

He waited for my reaction - waited for some sort of protest, and received none.

"Alright, then I guess it's settled," he said.

The hurt and anger was evident in his voice no matter how hard he tried to conceal it.

I finally looked at him, panic floating up from the pit of my stomach. Every fiber of my being knew that it was best for him to go home and resume our charade of strict friendship. I knew it was the right thing to do for all of us. But when he struggled to his feet, I just didn't have the strength to let him leave.

I always had to be the strong one. When my father died, when my mother checked out, when Prim was called into the games, it was up to me to be the strong one. I was expected to make the ultimate sacrifice.

And I was strong.

I made the necessary sacrifices every time.

This time, I wasn't ready.

I wasn't strong enough to let Gale go.

As soon as he stood up, I quickly followed suit. We stood side by side, frozen in time, both not knowing what would happen next. I reached out and took his hand.

"I love you."

Clear as day, out of the blue I finally said it. I should have felt relieved. I should have felt satisfied, but mostly I was angry.

"I love you and it doesn't matter. I still have to pretend that I don't. I still have to marry Peeta and be put on a display for the world."

I could feel my throat tighten, and began to choke.

"So, you see? What's the point in telling you that I love you when it doesn't make a damned difference?"

"It means everything to me, Catnip."

He pulled me close to him. "It makes every difference to me."

Gathering me up, he kissed me with all of his renewed strength and I didn't resist. I knew Gale would eventually have to walk out that door. I knew that I was going to marry Peeta and I would have to eventually sort out those feelings as well. But I also knew that in that bittersweet moment, all I wanted was to be with Gale.

To be his.

Only his, even if only for awhile.

As we headed to my room, it was evident that Gale still had not yet regained all of his strength. He leaned against me for support as we climbed the stairs. Stopping halfway, I took his arm.

"I'm okay" he said.

When we got to my bedroom door he was more sure footed and pulled me to him again.

"When is Prim returning?"

He barely finished the sentence as he planted feverish kisses on my neck and earlobes.

I was out of breath.

"She's s-selling the cheese from her g-oat with my mother."

He trailed down to the hollow of my collarbone, lingering there with soft kisses.

"Ummm..."

I was losing all concentration as the telltale hunger began to wash over me, spreading through my chest, between my legs and down to my toes.

He slipped a hand under my shirt, caressing my the small of my back as his lips found mine again. Breaking the kiss he whispered.

"You have to promise me something, Catnip."

"What?" I was still in a trance.

"Promise me that this time I won't up naked as a mocking jay in front of your mother and sister while you go run after Peeta. I don't think I could bare it a second time"

I was about to laugh at his attempted joke, but the vulnerability in his eyes warned me otherwise.

"I promise." I whispered back before I kissed him again and led him into my bedroom.


	10. Chapter 10

There were few times in my life that I could honestly identify as happy.

Singing with my father at the pond on his day off from the mines.

Rocking my sister to sleep as a baby.

Laughing with friends in The Hob.

My mother meticulously braiding my hair as she hummed to me – before it all went bad.

I could count these moments on one hand.

Making love to Gale reminded me that those moments ever existed.

Making love.

What an obscure concept in the midst of our war-torn world. It sounds frivolous and cliché, but that's exactly what we did.

If I could choose my dreams, inject perfect memories into those soul ripping night terrors, I would choose this moment every time.

Moving in time with him. Feeling something so exquisite that came so naturally...like breathing.

The touch of him, so strong yet so soft.

The smell of him – like home.

I'm sure the Capitol had such injections, but those privileges didn't extend as far as district 12. Here, we wore our trauma like the thick coal dust of the mines, clogging every pore.

I woke up the next morning with my face buried in his chest. He was sleeping peacefully on his side and for the first time since the whipping, his body wasn't drawn tight with pain. His breath was deep and steady. I pressed a smile into his naked torso as images of him the night before, revisited me like sweet little dreams. His hands trembling as they fumbled over my shirt. I knew it wasn't the first time he'd been with a girl.

But it was his first time with me.

I watched the same concentration he had in the woods, play over his face as I touched him – kissed him. But this time he opened himself to me and that expression of focus gave way to pure pleasure. As I watched him swell with anticipation, I could feel my own hunger build. After spending the last months always on guard, with an impenetrable wall up, my body was completely surrendered to him. Every touch, every stroke drew me into him, him into me. Each wave of pleasure punctuated by his soft panting in my ear.

We are really just animals in fancier trappings.

Our impulses and instincts just the same as the creatures we hunt in the forest. Over years of civilization, we've just learned to suppress them. As I felt his body tighten, ready to give himself over to me completely, I let my own body take over. I let my instincts and impulses be my guide. I felt as skilled at making love to Gale as I was hunting with my own bow.

He was an extension of myself.

As he began to lose himself, his own skilled hands lost their impetus and shook on the small of my back. His arms draped limply around the smallest part of my waist, as we both gave into the rhythm. His head cradled in the crook of my neck, he would brush his lips against my collarbone in between breaths. His lips were hot against my skin.

I'd never experienced anything like this before. And I'd never want my first time to be with anyone else. But just as we were meant to come together for the most beautiful hour of my life, fate would end it.

Cold, cruel, sadistic fate.

The Capitol created fate.

His hand grazed my bare hip, fingertips brushing the landscape of my ribcage, rounding my breast and staying for a rest before they made their destination to my cheek, to brush away a tear.

I responded with a sniffle.

"That bad huh?"

"Shut up" I said over the familiar lump in my throat.

Gale pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes.

"So, it was that good?"

"I never thought you to be the type to fish for compliments." I tried to deliver in my normal droll tone. He didn't laugh. Instead, he kissed the spot on my cheek bone where the tear used to be and pulled me close to him.

"I'm not going to make you say it," he said.

Before I could respond with an awkward review of our most intimate endeavor, he continued.

"I know this was a one time deal." he swallowed hard. "That I have to leave here and pretend that we aren't in love with each other."

He must have been watching my reaction as I struggled to climb out of my embarrassment and into bewilderment.

"I wasn't sleeping," he said.

I pressed the heels of my hands to my cheeks. They felt hot and flushed and I felt disoriented. "When?" I mumbled as I started to feel the full weight of sorrow before he even said it.

"The morning after you apologized. When you and Haymitch were talking," he said.

Pressure began to brew behind my eyes and I squeezed them shut, but it was no use. My response, which was meant to be strong and sensible came out in a low wail. It was a sound I didn't recognize as my own. He held on to me as I clawed at him. Grasped at him, desperate to hug him closer, to pull him into me and never let go. But I knew I would have to. And the fact that he knew it to, was too much to take. After several minutes of losing complete control over my senses, I forced my eyes open to find Gale looking at me, his own eyes bloodshot and streaming.

I reached up and kissed him, letting a calm wash over me. It was time for me to be strong again. Because at the end of the day, my strength was all I could rely on to make it through. Without a word, I got up and ran a wash rag under cool water from the bathroom faucet, avoiding my reflection in the mirror. I pressed the cloth gently to his eyes and washed his face. He felt warm and feverish to the touch. Between the physical exertion and blatant display of emotion, Gale looked depleted.

I fetched the wash basin my mother used to wash her hair during water ration and began to bathe him. All the unaffected areas I bathed and kissed and brushed with my fingertips. He began to dissolve into the bed, his eyes struggling to keep their focus on me. As he began to drift off into peaceful rest, I whispered my goodbye to him.

"I will love you for the rest of my life. I will remember what we shared for the rest of my life. But I will not sacrifice your life for this love. I'm not strong enough. I'm sorry."


	11. Chapter 11

A week later, I awoke in the morning to an empty bed. Prim had returned to her room. Gale insisted he would take the floor, since he was almost healed. At all of our insistence to take a bed in the Everdeen household, he refused to impede on anyone any further. I peered out the window to find freshly chopped fire wood stacked high on the side of the house. A dozen new arrows, whittled and fashioned just how I liked them, rested next to the wood pile.

Shortly after the morning Gale awoke alone in my bed, he had busied himself with chores around the house, in spite of Primm and my mother's concerns.

"Can't you speak to him, Katniss? Maybe he'll listen to you and find some sense." My mother asked after she had come back from the town square one afternoon to find an ornately crafted medicinal closet in the kitchen and the majority of the trees in our yard, hacked to the roots. I promised her I would speak with him, knowing I never had any intention to.

I knew this was Gale's way of coping with the situation we were in. Before his whipping, he would have taken out his frustrations in the forest, found solace high in the hills and licked his wounds. But now, he was just as trapped as I was. Trapped in a life that had been decided for him and forced into a future that was the exact opposite of what he wanted. I wouldn't take his work away from him; take away his coping mechanism.

We didn't see each other much in those weeks following although we were sharing a roof. I made myself scarce in my bedroom, while Gale took to the outdoors. He didn't leave the confines of my back yard in case Peacekeepers were out looking for trouble. When we did bump into each other, he was amiable and did his best to treat me as the same girl he had found in the woods on her first hunt those years ago. We were friends.

"You don't need to be in any rush to leave, son." My mother said.

Inspecting her handiwork, she peeled away the bandages from his back. The torn, broken body which was dumped on her kitchen table a few weeks past, showed signs of considerable healing. A network of newly formed scars ran across Gale's back. I stared in amazement at my lurking place in the kitchen doorway. Gale most likely knew I was there. He always knew.

"Your wounds have healed amazingly well, there's no denying that." My mother continued, applying antiseptic to some of the scabbing. "But you technically have some open wounds and until this scabbing comes off completely, there is the risk of infection."

I smiled sadly at the concern in her voice. My mother would never admit it, but she had grown accustomed to having a man in the house again and was sad to see Gale go.

Not as sad as I was.

"I really should be getting back to my mother and brothers," he said. He craned his neck, peering over his shoulder to look at her. "I'll be back for regular check ups, I promise." he assured. She gave him a wilted smile and nodded as he shrugged into his shirt. He turned turned to her, rested his broad hands on her frail shoulders and looked down at her.

"Mrs. Everdeen, I don't know how I could ever thank you enough for –"

"I was just answering the call." My mother said.

She reached up and brushed a smudge of soot from his jawline.

"You can thank me by staying alive. I don't want to see you back here on this table, young man." There was a motherly sternness in her cadence – one that I hadn't heard in a very long time.

"Yes ma'am," he said with a lopsided grin.

Knowing he was about to leave, I forced myself into view. I couldn't bare the thought of not saying goodbye, but I couldn't bare the thought of it at the same time. His grin faded and upon my materializing and his eyes suddenly changed. We looked at each other in silence for a long while; my mother caught in the awkward middle.

"Well, I have some herbs to categorize for my beautiful new cabinet..." she segued, mercifully scuffling off.

Gale closed the distance between us. I felt so heavy, where I stood as if all the weight and sorrow of the world was on my shoulders. My rational mind knew I was being melodramatic. People were dying of starvation, tortured at the capitol's hands, while others were being maimed and forced into servitude. If I were a bigger person, I would accept that people had worse tragedies than me. Others didn't survive the games, as I did; let alone survive them with a boy they deeply cared about from their own district. But watching Gale get ready to say goodbye to any future we could have together, seemed like the most insufferable cross to bare.

I must have looked pitiful. A very small smile tugged at his bottom lip, his eyes shining as he wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes and let myself exist in his space. I pressed my cheek against the solidness of his chest and breathed in his scent, trying to memorize it.

"Hey, Catnip. This isn't goodbye." he said. After all that happened, he was consoling me.

I breathed him in one more time and looked up at him with the most composed expression I could muster.

"You're right. I'll see you in a few days." I nodded at him. "You're check-up with the doc." I wondered if he heard my voice waiver.

"Right," he nodded.

Again, we stood in silence, not wanting to part ways. Finally, Gale went in for the kill. Being the braver of the two of us, he was willing to end the misery. He cradled my head in his large, warm hands and tilted my face up to him, looking right into me.

Only this time, I didn't look away.

His silver eyes grew in intensity as he saw everything he'd spent so many years looking for. I felt boneless and flimsy as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, in a soft kiss. He tasted of mint, like the ones I had fed him when he was ill; when it all began.

"I better get going." he whispered against my forehead. I nodded, unable to form words. He planted one last kiss on my cheek and left without a sound.


End file.
